Читать книгу A Residence in France During the Years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795, Complete - Charlotte Biggs - Страница 5

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I am every day more confirmed in the opinion I communicated to you on my arrival, that the firſt ardour of the revolution is abated.—The bridal days are indeed paſt, and I think I perceive ſomething like indifference approaching. Perhaps the French themſelves are not ſenſible of thiſ change; but I who have been abſent two years, and have made as it were a ſudden tranſition from enthuſiaſm to coldneſs, without paſſing through the intermediate gradations, am forcibly ſtruck with it. When I was here in 1790, parties could be ſcarcely ſaid to exiſt—the popular triumph waſ too complete and too recent for intolerance and perſecution, and the Nobleſſe and Clergy either ſubmitted in ſilence, or appeared to rejoice in their own defeat. In fact, it was the confuſion of a deciſive conqueſt—the victors and the vanquiſhed were mingled together; and the one had not leiſure to exerciſe cruelty, nor the other to meditate revenge. Politics had not yet divided ſociety; nor the weakneſs and pride of the great, with the malice and inſolence of the little, thinned the public places. The politics of the women went no farther than a few couplets in praiſe of liberty, and the patriotiſm of the men was confined to an habit de garde nationale, the device of a button, or a nocturnal revel, which they called mounting guard.—Money was yet plenty, at leaſt ſilver, (for the gold had already begun to diſappear,) commerce in itſ uſual train, and, in ſhort, to one who obſerves no deeper than myſelf, every thing ſeemed gay and flouriſhing—the people were perſuaded they were happier; and, amidſt ſuch an appearance of content, one muſt have been a cold politician to have examined too ſtrictly into the future. But all this, my good brother, is in a great meaſure ſubſided; and the diſparity is ſo evident, that I almoſt imagine myſelf one of the ſeven ſleeperſ—and, like them too, the coin I offer is become rare, and regarded more as medals than money. The playful diſtinctions of Ariſtocrate and Democrate are degenerated into the opprobium and bitterneſs of Party—political diſſenſions pervade and chill the common intercourſe of life—the people are become groſs and arbitrary, and the higher claſſes (from a pride which thoſe who conſider the frailty of human nature will allow for) deſert the public amuſements, where they cannot appear but at the riſk of being the marked objects of inſult.—The politics of the women are no longer innoxiouſ—their political principleſ form the leading trait of their characters; and as you know we are often apt to ſupply by zeal what we want in power, the ladies are far from being the moſt tolerant partizans on either ſide.—The national uniform, which contributed ſo much to the ſucceſs of the revolution, and ſtimulated the patriotiſm of the young men, is become general; and the taſk of mounting guard, to which it ſubjects the wearer, is now a ſeriouſ and troubleſome duty.—To finiſh my obſervations, and my contraſt, no Specie whatever is to be ſeen; and the people, if they ſtill idolize their new form of government, do it at preſent with great ſobriety—the Vive la nation! ſeems now rather the effect of habit than of feeling; and one ſeldom hears any thing like the ſpontaneous and enthuſiaſtic ſounds I formerly remarked.

I have not yet been here long enough to diſcover the cauſes of thiſ change; perhaps they may lie too deep for ſuch an obſerver as myſelf: but if (as the cauſes of important effects ſometimes do) they lie on the ſurface, they will be leſs liable to eſcape me, than an obſerver of more pretentions. Whatever my remarks are, I will not fail to communicate them—the employment will at leaſt be agreeable to me, though the reſult ſhould not be ſatiſfactory to you; and as I ſhall never venture on any reflection, without relating the occurrence that gave riſe to it, your own judgement will enable you to correct the errors of mine.

I was preſent yeſterday at a funeral ſervice, performed in honour of General Dillon. This kind of ſervice is common in Catholic countries, and conſiſts in erecting a cenotaph, ornamented with numerous lights, flowers, croſſes, &c. The church is hung with black, and the maſs iſ performed the ſame as if the body were preſent. On account of General Dillon's profeſſion, the maſs yeſterday was a military one. It muſt always, I imagine, ſound ſtrange to the ears of a Proteſtant, to hear nothing but theatrical muſic on theſe occaſions, and indeed I could never reconcile myſelf to it; for if we allow any effect to muſic at all, the train of thought which ſhould inſpire us with reſpect for the dead, and reflections on mortality, is not likely to be produced by the ſtrains in which Dido bewails Eneas, or in which Armida aſſails the virtue of Rinaldo.—I fear, that in general the air of an opera reminds the belle of the Theatre where ſhe heard it—and, by a natural tranſition, of the beau who attended her, and the dreſs of herſelf and her neighbours. I confeſs, this was nearly my own caſe yeſterday, on hearing an air from "Sargines;" and had not the funeral oration reminded me, I ſhould have forgotten the unfortunate event we were celebrating, and which, for ſome days before, when undiſtracted by this pious ceremony, I had dwelt on with pity and horror.*—

* At the firſt ſkirmiſh between the French and Auſtrians near Liſle, a general panic ſeized the former, and they retreated in diſorder to Liſle, crying _"Sauve qui peut, & nous fomnes (ſic) trahis."_--"Let every one ſhift for himſelf—we are betrayed." The General, after in vain endeavouring to rally them, was maſſacred at his return on the great ſquare.—My pen faulters, and refuſes to deſcribe the barbarities committed on the lifeleſs hero. Let it ſuffice, perhapſ more than ſuffice, to ſay, that his mutilated remains were thrown on a fire, which theſe ſavages danced round, with yells expreſſive of their execrable feſtivity. A young Engliſhman, who was ſo unfortunate as to be near the ſpot, was compelled to join in thiſ outrage to humanity.—The ſame day a gentleman, the intimate friend of our acquaintance, Mad. _____, was walking (unconſcious what had happened) without the gate which leads to Douay, and was met by the flying ruffians on their return; immediately on ſeeing him they ſhouted, "Voila encore un Ariſtocrate!" and maſſacred him on the ſpot.

—Independent of any regret for the fate of Dillon, who is ſaid to have been a brave and good officer, I am ſorry that the firſt event of thiſ war ſhould be marked by cruelty and licentiouſneſs.—Military diſcipline has been much relaxed ſince the revolution, and from the length of time ſince the French have been engaged in a land war, many of the troops muſt be without that kind of courage which is the effect of habit. The danger, therefore, of ſuffering them to alledge that they are betrayed, whenever they do not chooſe to fight, and to excuſe their own cowardice by aſcribing treachery to their leaders, is incalculable.—Above all, every infraction of the laws in a country juſt ſuppoſing itſelf become free, cannot be too ſeverely repreſſed. The National Aſſembly have done all that humanity could ſuggeſt—they have ordered the puniſhment of the aſſaſſins, and have penſioned and adopted the General's children. The orator expatiated both on the horror of the act and its conſequences, aſ I ſhould have thought, with ſome ingenuity, had I not been aſſured by a brother orator that the whole was "execrable." But I frequently remark, that though a Frenchman may ſuppoſe the merit of his countrymen to be collectively ſuperior to that of the whole world, he ſeldom allows any individual of them to have ſo large a portion as himſelf.—Adieu: I have already written enough to convince you I have neither acquired the Gallomania, nor forgotten my friends in England; and I conclude with a wiſh a propoſ to my ſubject—that they may long enjoy the rational liberty they poſſeſs and ſo well deſerve.—Yours.